


Observation of Heartbreak

by silvereyesandboloties



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, this is just pure angst i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7427113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereyesandboloties/pseuds/silvereyesandboloties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He can't help but think back and remember Marco's terrified eyes when his ears pick up those quiet sobs in the darkness."</p><p>Bertholdt notices Jean's downfall after Marco's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observation of Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my second post on AO3, woohoo! :D  
> Sooo...I'm a bit of an angst fanatic teehee  
> This is a bit rough because I don't really know how to go about finding a beta, so I apologize if there's any grammatical or spelling errors! Hopefully you can look past any you find (or point them out to me, if you want!) and enjoy the story! <3

He can hear Jean cry at night. He would never say anything to him, he knows that anything he has to say will only make it worse. The last thing he wants is to make it worse. Bertholdt has done his best to avoid his comrade (jeez, can he even call him that?) and the sad tilt of his head ever since the night when they burned the bodies of the fallen soldiers. The memory of the smell still hurts his nose.

During the day, he tries to pretend that everything is normal. He tries pretending that he doesn’t notice the look on Jean’s face when he thinks no one is looking, or the way he’s started guarding his right side a little more. He tries ignoring the fake confidence when he argues with Eren or the way he longingly watches the couples giggling to each other in the mess hall. It’s easier if he sticks near Reiner, or if he reads or if he does anything, really. As long as he tries, he doesn’t have to think about it.

It’s when the lights go out in the compound and everyone turns out their lanterns that he can’t ignore the quiet sniffs from the other side of the room. Reiner tells him to ignore it, not to dwell on it ( _“We did what we had to, stop bringing it back up, Bert.”_ ), but he can’t help but think back and remember Marco’s terrified eyes when his ears pick up those quiet sobs in the darkness.

Those tears are their fault, he knows. The loneliness in Jean’s eyes every night, too. He’s seen Jean several times staring at the empty futon beside him, watched him push his face into the other pillow. There’s no way that Marco’s smell is still present in it, and it makes him feel worse to know that even though it’s impossible, Jean still takes deep breaths in futile attempts to find the familiar scent. He says his name in his sleep, too, but he tells himself not to think about it. It’s natural for Jean to mourn, he knows, but it still unsettles him to hear.

It wasn’t a secret about Jean and Marco. Anyone with eyes could see the way Marco followed everything Jean did, the way Jean only genuinely smiled at Marco. The two were always together, always talking quietly to themselves and laughing over their dinners. No one questioned the lingering brushes of their hands. It wasn’t uncommon for morning to bring them awake wrapped around each other. Nobody said a word when the two snuck off during cleaning duty, holding hands and Marco giggling.

Bertholdt had always watched them with envy. Reiner would never allow such obvious shows of affection, only letting him hold his hand underneath the covers after lights out. It was something Reiner had told him should be kept secret. Bertholdt had a hard time believing it wasn’t because the other boy was ashamed of him. He wanted them to sit beside each other, like Jean and Marco did. He wanted Reiner and he to be close, like they were. Marco and Jean had made it look so easy.

He wonders if Marco hated him in those last moments for taking him away from Jean. Had Marco thought about Jean, as he’d cried and begged them not to leave him there on that roof? Had he been worried about his lover, for how he would grieve? The thoughts send a shiver down his spine.

That’s why Bertholdt now finds himself crawling to the edge of his bunk and peaking across the room. He can see Jean by the light from the window; curled into a ball on Marco’s side of the bunk, gripping his pillow to his chest. Bertholdt bites his lip and his eyebrows draw together. He hates to see this. He hates knowing that if it weren’t for him, Marco would be there beside Jean. Marco would wrap his arms around him and make him laugh. Marco never would have let those tears stay on Jean’s cheeks.

Tears that he was responsible for.

“Bert.”

He jumps a little at the harsh whisper, sliding away from the edge and laying back down before he looks over at Reiner. “What?”

Reiner sighs, propping himself up on his elbows. “You’ve gotta stop this shit.”

Bertholdt lays his hands over his stomach and takes a shaky breath. “I know.”

After another sigh slips from the other boy, Bertholdt feels Reiner move closer to his futon. “Hey,” he starts, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

Bertholdt marvels at the worried frown that creases Reiner’s brow and sits up. He brings his knees to his chest and sets his arms on them. “I know...I just can’t stand it,” he whispers back.

“Why does it bother you so much? It’s not like you to dwell on things.”

Considering his partner’s question, Bertholdt finds himself staring down at his arms. Why did he focus so much on Marco’s death, and Jean’s mourning? Guilt settles in his chest with every thought spared to the other boy. Was it guilt…?

“Um...I don’t really-”

A loud sniffle travels to his eardrums and he glances back toward Jean. Bertholdt’s face grows tense and he reaches up to rub his eyes. He feels Reiner’s eyes on him and sighs. “It’s just...Jean is a mess.”

Reiner nods even though Bertholdt can’t see him. “Yeah, it’s understandable.”

Bertholdt lets his hand fall back to his knees and looks back to Reiner, his eyebrows pinched and his mouth tilted in a frown. “We did it. We didn’t want to, but we did it.”

“Bert--”  
“No, Reiner,” he whispered harshly, “imagine if it was me.”

Groaning, Reiner shakes his head and lies down, his arm falling over his eyes. “Just drop it, Bert.”

Annoyed at his partner’s apparent lack of caring, Bertholdt kicks off his blanket before crawling over and onto the bigger boy. He straddles Reiner, his hands falling to his cheeks. Reiner makes a small squeak of surprise before putting his hands on Bertholdt’s chest and attempting to push him off. The other boy shakes his head, refusing to move and instead leaning toward Reiner’s face. “Imagine you had to find me,” he leans closer. “Imagine me bloody--”

“Bert, this isn’t hel--” Reiner interrupts in a shaky voice, his hands falling from the other boy’s shoulders and back to his sides.

“Imagine my bones all broken. My nape sliced, my head smashed in,” his voice is softer as he presses his forehead against Reiner’s, his eyes closing. “Imagine me gone. Imagine finding me lifeless.”

A small breath escapes Reiner’s lips and ghosts across his face. He can feel a small shiver as the other boy harshly whispers his name. Bertholdt opens his eyes and pulls back. He looks down at Reiner with parted lips. Reiner’s eyes are soft and half-lidded, his lips pulled between his teeth. Bertholdt traces Reiner’s sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. His voice is uneven as he whispers, “I’m right here.”

Reiner shudders, closing his eyes. Bertholdt’s eyes roam over his face. Reiner’s strong jaw is tight, his teeth clenched together in what Bertholdt can assume is frustration. Maybe even fear. This boy beneath him is not the same one that the rest of the 104th know. This boy, this Reiner, is his and his alone. This strong but scared, intimidating but soft boy that loves the summer rain but hates the heat. His delicate eyes that try so hard to convey strength, but often come off confused. The calloused hands that hold on tightly to his 3DMG handles, and curl protectively around stray wildlife. This boy is Bertholdt’s.

He pulls back, his hand falling back to his side as he sips up, still straddling Reiner’s hips. “I was always jealous of those two.”

Reiner’s eyes crack open and fix him with a confused look. Bertholdt sighs, running his palms over his face. “They were so…” A few moments pass before he spoke again. His voice strained as he whispered, “they were so damn happy.”


End file.
